The major’s voice came to him clearly enough, in company with another wave of the hand in the other direction: “Ambulance?”
Dickenson swung round his glass to direct it towards Groenfontein, and his spirits rose again, for right away beyond the long string of oxen and wagons, as if coming to meet them, he could make out three light wagons drawn by horses, and a knot of about twenty mounted men coming at a canter and fast leaving the wagons behind.
“Ha!” sighed Dickenson; “that’s good. The colonel must have started them to meet us the moment the firing was heard.”
He turned directly to shout his news to the watching major, who signed to him to come down; and he descended, meeting two men coming up, one of them carrying a field-glass.
“To watch for the enemy, sir,” said the latter as they met. “Which is the best place?”
“Up yonder by that stone, my lad,” replied Dickenson, pointing. “Any news of Mr Lennox?”
“No, sir; I can’t understand it. I think I saw him running down the side of the kopje just as we were getting on, but it was so dark then I couldn’t be sure.”
“I can’t understand his not being found,” said Dickenson to himself, as he hurried down to where the major was posting the men in the best positions for resisting an attack, if one were made before the party could get away.
Dickenson’s attention was soon too much taken up with work waiting, for the wounded had to be seen to. Rightly considering that before long the enemy would advance to try and retake their old position, the major gave orders that the Boer wounded be rearranged so that they were in shelter and safety; and then, as there was still no sign of danger, the few injured of the attacking force were borne to the nearest spot where the ambulance party could meet them. Then the final work of destruction began.
“Seems a thousand pities,” said Captain Edwards, “badly as we want everything nearly here.”